Sleeping With Sirens xx Larry Stylinson
by feelsforbreakfast
Summary: Louis is the veela with tattoos up his arms and Harry is the punk rocker who most certainly hasn't been staring at him all night.


**Yeah, I did mean Harry Potter veela, you read that right, and yes this is *technically* in the hp universe. This is undoubtedly one of the weirdest things I've ever written but I actually really like where it went. Enjoy (:**

By all rights, he should look stupid. He's perched up on the bar like he owns the place, bright red high tops that look like they've seen better days and black skinny jeans that could be painted to his skin. The bar is smoky and hot, and Harry is sweating in his leather jacket, the chains on his red jeans clashing as he walks, a beer in hand.

The Weird Sisters are making their way through the 9 minute long, thrashing anthem that is _This Is The Night_; It's loud and the screams are louder as they continue with what is less music and more guitar riffs and anguished screaming. It's reaching Harry's favorite part of the evening, where he's just buzzed enough to feel weightless and high enough that the wails of the scrawny kid on the microphone turn poignant in the musky air.

"Who's that?" Zayn's voice is loud in his ear and he's smiling wide, his eyeliner smudged down underneath his eyes, piercings glittering in the low light.

"Who's who?" Harry asks, like he hasn't been staring at the same tattooed demon the entire night. He can't be a wizard, not looking like that, and Harry has been studiously avoiding him. He doesn't have all that much experience with dark magical beings, but he's pretty sure that the petite creature perched on the bar is one of them, and he isn't entirely sure that if it became necessary, he could run away even if he wanted to.

"You know who I'm talking about." Zayn replies, poking him in the side.

Harry makes a face at him, stumbling back as he trips over his doc martens. "Not sure."

"Such a blushing beauty, you are." Zayn teases him, flicking his lip ring with his tongue. "Go talk to him. He's not my type but…" He whistles long and low, barely audible over the music. "Damn."

Harry shakes his head. "No more pretty boys for me."

Zayn scoffs, giving a truly fantastic roll of his eyes. "You lying bastard. You can't resist."

Harry scowls, flicking Zayn off with a polished fingernail, striding over to the far side of the bar to prove his point. He can resist. He will.

It doesn't really help that this kid, whoever he is, is actually disgustingly gorgeous. He's got fringe that really should look preppy but doesn't somehow and kohl lined eyes that glitter when he narrows them. He leans back easily on the bar, bony shoulders and arms covered in tattoos. There's a full sleeve on his right one, and Harry wonders what sort of things he has inked there. He wonders if the boy would mind him tracing the lines of it.

He shakes the thoughts from his head, focusing on the band and not the crush of doe eyed people crowded around the boy, girls and guys alike. It's pathetic, and he's not going to be a part of it.

He would have been perfectly happy to stand by the stage and half-heartedly hit on some pink haired girl all night if two unfortunate things hadn't happened in rapid succession. The first unfortunate thing involves getting to the bottom of his lukewarm beer, meaning that he has to look over at the bar, and the second is catching sight of Niall making eyes at his mystery boy. Well, not his mystery boy._The_ mystery boy. The mystery boy he has absolutely no claim over whatsoever.

He swears violently underneath his breath and heads over purely because he needs something more to drink and for no other reasons whatsoever. It's just that once he gets close he can see the way Niall is pitched forward, all pink cheeks and long pale limbs and black tipped blonde hair, and it makes his insides twist unhappily.

There's something almost feral in the way the boy leans down to Niall, pink lips parted and wet, eyes dangerous. He's small, like the fairies in children's books, and Harry wonders if maybe he's part fey, if fairies like those actually exist. He didn't really pay quite as much attention in Defense Against The Dark Arts as he's like to have himself believe, so he really has pretty much no idea. If they weren't knocking out their opponents he probably wasn't listening.

Before he really knows what he's doing, he can feel himself pressing past the group of people pretending not to watch the boy and up to where Niall is leaning against the bar. The boy is saying something and Niall is laughing and he feels all ugly inside for reasons he doesn't want to explain. Suddenly everything is too much and not enough and he knows he shouldn't want to punch Niall but he really really wants to, so he just clenches his fists and butts into the conversation.

"Hey Nialler, who's your friend?"

Niall doesn't look away from his tanned companion, teeth biting his bottom lip. "His name's Louis. I was just telling about our record that sold 70 trillion copies. You remember right, Lipstick Zombie? The one we performed at the Puddlemere and Irish National Quidditch Match?" Lipstick Zombie is the EP that their absolutely crap punk rock band _Apathetic Hurricane_ released sometime back in December, which had sold nowhere near 1 trillion copies, much less 70.

There's a moment where Harry is too stunned to even be jealous and then another where he realizes exactly what's going on. Harry sighs, rubbing Niall on the shoulder and turning to look at Louis, who's smirking at them like they're his next meal. He knows it's coming, but he's still not prepared for the overwhelming want that pours through his veins at the the sharp look in the other boy's gray blue eyes. They're hypnotic and they make Harry feel warm when they're on him, like he'd do anything to keep himself in their gaze.

He takes a deep breath and tries to look composed. "Hey veela boy, I'd appreciate it if you didn't eat up poor Niall here."

The veela, because really how did Harry not figure that out sooner, cocks his head, peering at Harry through long black eyelashes. There's a thin line of silver glitter on his upper lid and a smudge of navy eyeliner underneath and it makes his eyes look even more blue as they flick over Harry's body, lazy and appraising.

"I wasn't going to eat him." He says innocently, reaching out to touch Niall's flushed face with delicate fingers, the studded bracelets on his arm sliding down to his elbow. His voice is soft but it drifts through the din easily, gravely tones making Harry's blood run hot. "Just mess him about a little."

He gives a tiny little condescending smile, stroking his fingers across Niall cheek as the blonde practically purrs under his fingers. He's rough like the sound of his voice and the holes ripped into his jeans and sharp like the studs on his bracelets and the industrial in his ear. He glitters too, his eyeliner, the crystal of his eyes, and the snakebites underneath his bottom lip that Harry wants to tug on with his teeth. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No, he's just a good friend who doesn't need some veela prince messing him about." Harry replies, finding that its getting easier to control himself. He can still feel it, the overwhelming urge to make Louis pay attention to him, to make Louis want him, but he's moving into his element now. He doesn't have to make up stories to make Louis watch him, he just has to be the only one he can't reel in. He just has to make Louis try.

"Quarter-veela." Louis replies sagely, picking at his red nail polish, flecks falling into the floor like dried blood. "Not that anyone's cared."

"Makes sense." Harry replies, sticking his hands into his back pockets and shrugging his wide shoulders. "I thought you were a bit easy to resist."

Louis shakes his head slowly, hands leaving Niall's cheek to cross over his chest. He just sits there for a moment, then raises a finger to his lips, tracing the dark line of his bottom one. "I think this is probably a good time to tell you I'm just getting started."

Harry smiles. "I'd hope so. I was getting a little disappointed."

Louis smiles wickedly. "You're a liar."

"Am I?" Harry asks, feigning innocence, daring Louis to call his bluff.

"I've been watching you all night." He says, picking up his beer and taking a slow swig. His cheeks hollow out for a moment, cheekbones in sharp relief, and his adam's apple bobs when he swallows. "Watching you watching me." He smirks, sliding down off the bar with deliberate slowness so his biceps flex, tattoos shifting as he does. "You're anything but disappointed."

"You caught me." Harry replies, shifting closer to Louis of his own accord. He's almost magnetic, hypnotizing in a way that's making him slowly lose his mind.

Louis leans closer, breath ticking Harry's lips as he moves into his space. "Haven't I?"

"Hey Louis did I-" Niall begins, only to have Louis place a finger against his lips.

"You can tell me when I get back, alright love?" He says kindly, blue gray eyes still holding Harry's.

Harry is aware of Niall nodding in his periphery, but all he can really focus on is Louis and trying to keep oxygen flowing in and out of his body.

"So do you want to head outside or should I just take you on the floor?" Louis whispers into his ear, his stubble rough against Harry's cheek when their skin brushes. It sends a shiver up Harry's spine and he remembers his earlier thought about not being able to run away even if he wanted to. At this point, he can't run away. He really doesn't want to. He still doesn't know if that's dangerous yet.

"Outside probably." He says, despite the large part of him that just wants to snog Louis senseless up against this stupid bar. "Floor's a bit sticky."

"Don't really mind being sticky, to be honest." Louis says, threading their fingers together, Harry's large hands eating up Louis' as he pulls him through the bar and out the side door. "Though I'd hate to ruin my hair."

"I'd love to ruin your hair." Harry replies, tearing his gaze from Louis to look around the alley, clearing his head for a moment. There's a light over the door that illuminates the grimy alleyway in a cone of orange, but other than that it's completely dark. A few smokers nod at them as Louis pulls him further into the dark, their eyes lingering just a little longer than they should.

"Cheeky." Louis stops, looking up at the cloudy darkness above them. "You couldn't ruin my hair if you tried."

Harry presses himself up against the brick, the pleasant August night creeping under his tee shirt. He thinks that sounds like a delicious challenge. "No, probably not." Harry reaches out, fingers hovering over Louis' neck. "Can I?"

Louis tilts his chin back, exposing the wing tattoos that curve down the sides of his neck. They're black and curling, more bird than angel, and Harry wants to mouth over them, ask him why he got them inked onto his skin. Ask him what he's flying away from, what he wants to fly to.

Harry takes his stillness as affirmation, running his fingers down the column of Louis' throat, smooth skin against his fingertips. "I still don't know your name." Louis says, the words thrumming under Harry's touch.

"I'm Harry." He supplies, pulling his hand back to look down at Louis, who is watching him with those sharp blue eyes.

Louis leans forward, stepping into Harry's space so their bodies knock against each other. "Hi Harry."

Harry's eyes shift closed, a raggedy breath escaping his mouth. "I like the way my name sounds in your mouth." He says before he can wonder if that's even something that sane people say. He's pretty sure it isn't.

Louis leans in, brushing their lips together. "Has anyone told you that you are very very pretty?"

Harry ducks forward to catch Louis' mouth with his, but the other boy seems to predict his movement, moving back so he misses. "I've heard it before." He says, realizing that Louis is actually waiting for a reply.

"You could sink ships with a face like that." Louis says, bringing his hands to Harry's waist, curling his fingers against the soft cotton of his tee shirt. His grip is sure, fingers digging into soft skin and hard muscle.

He nods, ducking forward again because damnit he's so close to him and Louis' eyes keep glittering and he just wants to lose himself in his mouth and the feel of his hands.

"You're so eager." Louis observes with a lazy glint in his eyes. He reaches up, tracing a hand down Harry's cheek and smiling when his breath stalls in his throat.

Harry pushes against the touch, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. "Can't help it."

That makes Louis smile, a delicious grin that stretches his lips and shows off his top teeth. "I know." And then he's kissing him, lips warm and urgent against Harry's. He can feel his muscles loosening as Louis runs his hands into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands in a way that makes him go pliant against the wall.

Harry gets his hands up underneath Louis' tee shirt, feeling the skin underneath the baggy cotton, soft hips and sharp shoulder blades that stick out of his back like bony pinions, shifting as he presses up against Harry.

Harry sags back against the wall, pulling Louis against him. The veela boy kisses with a purpose, tongue delving into Harry's mouth like he wants to taste him, hands moving from his hair to his back and then up to his hair again in some attempt to feel all of him.

Louis pulls back a little, running his tongue over Harry's lip ring, smiling when it makes Harry's eyes go that little bit darker. Louis leans back in, taking the metal between his teeth and pulling, Harry going weak at the knees.

His cock is pressed tight against his zipper, and it's a bit of an internal struggle actually, because he wants to get a hand down his pants but he also really wants to keep his hands on Louis' back. He spends about ten seconds grappling with the problem before realizing it's just not the kind of decision he really has the brain capacity to make, so he just whines under his breath as Louis sucks on his bottom lip.

Louis pauses, opening his eyes to look up at Harry, pupils blown so the blue in his eyes is barely a sliver. "You really can't help it, can you?"

Harry looks down at him, wishing he's stop talking and kiss him, and not entirely sure how to make that happen. "Can't help what?"

Louis doesn't answer for a moment, just raises an almost reverent hand to cup Harry's jaw, smiling when he pushes into the movement. "Reacting. You play it so cool but your body betrays you. You can barely breathe, can you?"

Harry shrugs, even though the answer is most definitely no. His lungs feel all tight, his breathing ragged and uneven ever since Louis got his lips on him. Louis just laughs, a low gravelly sound that might be his undoing.

"Don't worry, babe." Louis says, pressing his forehead to Harry's, slipping his hands into his backpockets. "It's hot."

Harry just nods, pressing his lips back to Louis' and pulling him so their bodies are flush. He knows Louis can feel him through his jeans, but at this point he doesn't really give a shit if Louis knows he wants him. It's not exactly a secret.

Louis grinds up against him, pushing him back against the brick with each rut of his slim hips. Harry lets out a soft moan at the movement, Louis' cock hard against his, slim fingers working at his buttons.

It feels dirty like this, the music leaking out from underneath the door, the smokers watching the shadows they're hiding in out of the corner of their eyes, and Harry is trying so hard to be quiet but he can't stop the soft noises that escape his lips every time Louis brushes against his cock.

"Think I could make you come for me?" Louis breathes into his ear, his voice curling into Harry's brain like a drug, smoke seeping into the crevices and making him faint. He can almost remember something about veela magic, that their voices could make the best men hold their heads under water until they drowned. He believes it now, the soft cadence of Louis' voice like a lullaby, like a promise, like the moon hanging in the coal black sky and lighting him up. It's the water filling his lungs as he holds his head underwater.

"Yeah." He gasps out, fingers curling against Louis's shoulderblades, still sharp like his tongue and soft like his lips, and he's losing it. He can feel heat coiling up inside him, monsters crawling around in his bones as he grips him tight. Louis is his anchor in the storm, but he's the storm too, lightning in his eyes and thunder underneath his skin.

"You're so close." Louis says, grinding Harry against the wall, tugging his hair and sucking against his neck, sensitive skin going red under his teeth. It's too much really, the water filling his brain as he lets Louis kiss him, kiss him and whisper nonsense in his ear as desire makes it's home in his stomach.

"Come for me." Louis growls against Harry's ear after a few more minutes of kissing and touching and learning the crevices of each other's bodies, and it's less of a suggestion and more of a command. Harry's breath stops, his mind taking a moment to catch up to the words as he pulls Louis to him, curling himself so his lips are pressed to Louis' neck, teeth biting down on his skin as his hips cant up to Louis' and he goes over the edge.

It's even better than he thought it would be, back arching off the wall, a broken cry falling from his lips against the skin of Louis' neck, fingers pressing into his back. When he finally floats back into his skin he's breathing hard, clutching Louis to him like a lifeline as he presses kisses to the sparrows he has inked to the skin there.

"You're so good." Louis says softly, losing his air of cocky assurance as he sags against Harry's body, petting his hair with careful fingers.

Harry can't fight the little smile that curls across his face. He still feels all loose and hazy, but warm in the aftermath. It's still grimy in the alleyway but Louis' eyelids are glittering and so are his eyes and its making it heart hurt in the best way. "Thankyou."

Louis looks up at him with glassy eyes that match his. "It was my pleasure."

"Wait, you?" Harry asks brokenly, looking down at Louis own unzipped jeans.

Louis laughs softly, ducking his head. "You bit my shoulder, how could I not?"

Harry lets out a soft gust of laughter, burying his face in Louis' neck as he tries to hide his flushed cheeks. Louis just holds him for a minute or two, cologne and sweat somehow comforting as his fingers rub soothing circles against Harry's back.

Louis pulls away first, waving his hand a bit and murmuring something under his breath. Harry can feel a tingling warmth descend over him as the spell takes effect, the sweat on his brow drying as the magic cleans him up. "Cool spell." Harry observes lamely, mostly just for something to say, wondering where this leaves them, wondering if maybe he's supposed to head back inside and forget this whole thing, but knowing he really doesn't want to.

Louis nods, digging in his back pocket for a half crushed pack of cigarettes. "Making casual hookups easier since 2010." He says with a wry grin, pulling his wand from his pocket and lighting his cigarette with a green spark. The ember stays green as he takes a pull and then blows emerald smoke rings into the night.

Harry says nothing, just watches as he leans up against the wall opposite him, a half smile resting on his delicate features. The novelty hasn't worn off yet, he's still as infuriatingly gorgeous as the moment Harry laid eyes on him. "Can I ask you a question?" He asks after a long moment, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

Louis shrugs, tapping ash onto the ground. "Sure."

"Have you ever been in love?" And the original question was 'have you ever had a boyfriend' but he's a little bit drunk and its not his fault his brain got sidetracked halfway through.

Louis just takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out in a long angry gust, looking up at the sky so the wings are visible again. "Love is an incorrect concept."

And its such a preposterous answer that Harry can't help but laugh, a smile breaking across his face. "Love isn't an incorrect concept, it just is."

"I believe in infatuation. I believe that sometimes people think they're in love. But people don't just love one another, not like in stories, not really." He doesn't look at Harry when he says it, the words sounding wrong in his lovely mouth.

"Well shit." Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you don't believe in love, what chance do the rest of us have?"

"You've got the chance to find someone who isn't just looking for a hypnotic voice and a pretty face. You can get someone to care about you, not just someone who wants you." The subtext is there. _I can't._

"I'm sorry you think that." Harry says, because he thinks that maybe the reason Louis hasn't found love is because he doesn't believe in it, doesn't think it believes in him. "It's not true."

Louis smiles, pushing himself off the wall and walking back into Harry's space, pressing his still lit cigarette into his fingers. "You're sweet."

He examines Harry for a moment, ice blue eyes sharp and fierce. There's beat where he thinks Louis is going to kiss him, but he just lets out a tiny sigh instead and the moment passes. "Maybe I'll see you again, Harry. I liked you."

And then he's sauntering away, slim hips and slim shoulders, the packet of cigarettes sticking out of his back pocket. He apparates with a crack just before he reaches the light, and for a moment it looks like he's simply dissolved into the orange glow.

Harry watches the space where he disappeared, taking small puffs from the cigarette until its completely down to the filter and trying desperately to get those blue eyes out of his head.

He doesn't think he really wants to.

**Author's Note: Special thanks for Solange for reblogging that veela louis thing and then not stopping me when I thought up the most ridiculous AU in existence. (maybe not the most, but punk!harrypotter one direction like what even) I may continue this, I don't know, it might be too weird… For now its just a oneshot Likes and reblogs are always appreciated (:**

_Writing updates:_

_Holiday oneshots: 5 finished  
Trashy Rich Boy AU: 14k so far  
Hipster AU: 7.5k so far (i might not continue this one its pretty shit idk the sex scene is fun) _

**See you soon, **

**Mattie 3**


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